All of us dream and everyone, they say, has a novel in them.
Yet few turn their fantasies into fiction. Tomorrow and tomorrow is always the
excuse as the petty distractions of life get in the way. As Disraeli observed,
most die with their music locked up inside them.
Even those of us who
gear up our courage and stamina for the marathon of finishing full-length
novels, the monster Doubt looms large, throwing obstacles and diversions in our
way. Easier to get the shopping, washing, gardening, paperwork sorted first.
Then there’ll be time and head space. At which point fate steps in with what
the French call deviations, a can’t-be-ignored road block which requires yet
another detour away from the dream.
If memory serves me
correctly Beethoven once said his problem wasn’t a musicians’ block, it was the
opposite. As soon as he stepped out of bed, notes flooded into his head. For
lesser mortals the muse is not so obliging - a faint siren call, all too easily
silenced. The risks of foundering on the sharp rocks of disappointment and
humiliation loom large. Best to keep our precious inner world away from the
reefs.
In astrology and
Jungian psychology, the stander on the threshold is a key archetypal figure.
One who can dive into the unconscious realm of visions and fantasies and
re-emerge to craft them into tangible form. The old glyph for the sign of
Capricorn, deigned to have this rare talent, was a goat with a fish tail – a
hybrid creature of water and earth. Though to be picky, it would not be
entirely efficient in either. Mermaids can’t live on land and a two-legged
horned beast dragging a scaly appendage behind wouldn’t get up too many
mountains. Still as symbolism it makes sense.
Capricornians are
notoriously materialistic and ambitious, cold business types who disavow all
feeling to get to the top. Yet they are also creative. All successful
commercial enterprises start with an idea, which after much struggle,
overcoming setbacks and hurdles, is turned into money. The artier version of this might take note of
the long-game mindset which is crucial - accepting that the route to the top of
your chosen peak will always be a winding path, with reverses, sheer drops,
insurmountable obstacles which have to be circumnavigated, while always keeping
the end goal in mind. 
To amble off down a
side road for a moment I was struck by a story told by Black Elk, a medicine
and holy man of the Lakota Sioux in the USA. He had a childhood vision of
visiting the centre of the earth where he met with the Grandfathers of the six
sacred directions – east, west, north, south, above and below. This set him
apart as a healer and wise man and was experienced by him as a protection. When
he fought in the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, he said he knew he would not
be harmed if he kept his vision in mind. Only when it slipped at one point was
he grazed by a bullet. Sceptics may scorn but there is a moral imperative
wrapped up in the tale – do not lose sight of your inner guiding daemon.
Back in the 21st
century, the knotty problem of turning on the tap to let your muse run free
remains. Years ago I wrote an autobiography that I knew could never be
published – too zany, off-the-wall and slanderous. The words poured onto paper
in a gushing stream every spare hour I could salvage from earning a living. No
schedule. No blocked-off-mornings-for- writing strictures. It switched on any
time with an exhilarating swoosh.
Occasionally you
read of authors who have had the same unstoppable flow and finished their novel
within weeks. More often writers talk of the arduous task of hewing words and
ideas ‘out of a void’ and ten years later they finally type The End on their
opus.
I’m trying to find
a less crass term than laxative as an aid to speeding up writers’ flow. Maybe
it’s the wrong metaphor. Juggling structure with creativity is more where it’s
at. Not just structure in the novel but in life. And finding the right balance
with the genie that is pleading to be let out of its cage. To take the risk there needs to be an element
of desperation behind any creative enterprise. An itch that can’t be cured,
almost an addiction.
Aminatta Forna (The
Memory of Love, The Hired Man, Happiness) describes writing novels “as taking a
thought for walk.” A Forrest Gump-sized three year 19,000 mile walk.
Persistence, endurance and the will-power to walk through your personal ‘wall’
of exhaustion and cowardice is all it takes. Simple, then.
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me on:
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LIE at: www.marjorieorr.com
